


Bellamy's Bad Time

by these_dreams_go_on



Series: In the Bunker [7]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Happy Ending, Hints of Bellarke, Roan (The 100) Lives, This gets a little angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 10:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14567013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/these_dreams_go_on/pseuds/these_dreams_go_on
Summary: Life in the Bunker gets rough for Bellamy





	Bellamy's Bad Time

**Author's Note:**

> So...we know this is definitely not going to ever happen but I have another story or two in this universe.

Bellamy was _not_ having a good Unity Day.

By sheer coincidence, the day had fallen on the same day that they had all entered the bunker and this was the first anniversary.

One year down. Four more to go.

This should have been cause for celebration but instead, he was gritting his teeth because if he didn’t he would be saying some very bad words to the people in front of him.

Which included but weren’t limited to, his sister, his brother-in-law, Marcus Kane, Abby Griffin, Indra and Clarke.

Who was clearly picking up on the tension across his shoulders,

  
“It’s a good idea,” she tries to tell him, because apparently their relationship has devolved to blatant _lies_.

“We need to know what it’s like out there, and I’m the only one with night blood,”

“Which we tested when we picked up Raven.” she continues, guessing his response and if he raised his eyebrows any further he might actually strain something in his forehead,

“Yeah, we _tested_ it, and you threw up black bile for _two days_ afterward, remember?”

  
No, because Clarke has selective memory when she was the one getting hurt or harmed.

  
“The blood was still new to my system,” she argues, “It’s been a year now, I should be fine, right?”

  
She turns to her mother for the answer and Bellamy does too, already knowing she’d be on his side. 

  
“Theoretically, yes,” she answers, cautiously, “However, anything would be fine in theory, we could put Bellamy in a radiation suit and send him up and theoretically he would be fine for as long as his oxygen held out.”

  
Octavia opens her mouth to instinctively argue against sending him out there and closes it when she realises that it would make her a hypocrite.

  
“I say we get Raven to build something,” he suggests, “A camera or some sort of robot to go up there and do the work for us.”

“That could take a year,” Clarke points out, exasperated.

“Are we pressed for time?” Roan asks, his voice quiet but heavily sarcastic,

“Praimfaya will have destroyed everything what difference will it make if the wasteland we see is one year old or two?”

“People need hope,” she responds, “And we need to plan for when we get out of the bunker, if I can get in and out, maybe I can start…tilling soil, or planting _something_ …”

“The earth around Polis was never good for farming,” Indra interrupts, the only one of them with any kind of knowledge about agriculture.

“You would have to travel miles before you reached what was once fertile soil.”

  
And Octavia holds up her hand before the discussion could turn into a debate about farming.

  
“I agree that people need hope,” Octavia exhales, “But I also agree with my brother that Raven building us a camera is a good idea, it won’t be enough to tell people, if they can see it with their own eyes, it’ll work more.”

  
Clarke clenches her jaw, clearly unhappy but seems to accept her decision and Octavia dismisses them. Except for Roan, Bellamy notes, who shows no sign of leaving her office or being kicked out.

  
“Hey,” she calls as they descend the ramp, her fingers brushing his wrist to slow him down, “Are you mad at me?”

“Mad?” he echoes, feigning ignorance, “Why would I be mad?”

She rolls her eyes, grabbing the arm of his jacket to turn him around to face her, “It’s safe, Bellamy.”

“Then why can’t _I_ go?”

“Because I’m the night blood, if something happens to my suit, I would be best equipped to survive.”

  
He could point out that her own reasoning negated her argument that the mission would be safe, but figures the point is moot anyway.

  
“We can talk about it with Raven in the morning.” He offers and tries not to smirk when she exhales in clear frustration.

“Fine.”

  
They don’t speak the rest of the way to his dorms, or even as they get ready for bed, taking in turns in the bathroom and Bellamy climbs to the top bunk, falling back with a sigh as the aches and pains of the day begin to lave his body.

He hears Clarke on the ladder and shifts over to make room for her, letting her adjust the blankets around their frames. 

She’s glaring at him, as if willing him to change his mind, even though he’s not the one who can issue the order.

  
“Go to sleep, Clarke,” he tells her, closing his eyes, “We’ll talk to Raven in the morning.”

* * *

 

Raven isn’t happy to have her current projects put on hold for the sake of building a camera robot, but between her bitching, griping and pointing out that despite all evidence to the contrary, she wasn’t a damn miracle worker, she told them she’d have something in two months.

Then, they have a small riot break out on C-Deck, close to farm station and it’s quelled quickly but Clarke starts pushing harder for going outside.

Worse, Octavia barely shuts her down.

Another round of fighting in the lower levels and they tell Raven that she’s out of time.

  
“Right,” she announces as she comes through the office doors, “This is what I could manage.”

  
Bellamy stares at the thing in front him.

It barely comes up to his knees and the camera is welded on but doesn’t look like it allows for much movement.

  
“Will it work?” he asks, already doubting its ability.

“Go float yourself, Bellamy,” she curses, “Do you know how much scrap I had to try and scavenge? I would have ripped the metal off Niylah’s cart if I didn’t have to worry about her shanking me.”

“That won’t get out the door by itself,” Octavia points out, “Can it climb stairs?”

Raven’s eyes flutter shut in exhaustion, “You _assholes_ told me to build a robot with a camera for the purpose of going outside and taking video, you did not tell me it had to get out off the bunker, through locked doors by itself. What the hell were you expecting?”

“It’s fine,” Clarke interjects, before the situation devolves further, “I can put on the suit, carry it outside and set it down.”

  
Bellamy raises his head, meets Abby’s gaze and mirrors her exasperated expression.

But they don’t have a better option, so they take the robot, take Clarke and walk up to the bunker door. She takes the suit she wore last time, pulling as much of it on as she could by herself before he takes over, attaching her gloves while Abby grabs her helmet.

  
“Stop that.” Clarke hisses as Bellamy holds up her left arm to the light,

“Stop what?” he asks, feigning ignorance and watches her struggle internally to give words to what he was doing,

“I can _feel_ your disapproval,” she points out, “I’ll be out there less than an hour, I’ll be fine.”

  
He bites his cheek and runs his hands over her sleeve, feeling for any tears or damage before releasing her with a sigh,

  
“Just…be careful okay?”

  
She grins, and her eyes are shining and that’s when it becomes clear to him why she had been arguing for this trip.

She cared about bunker morale, but she also wanted to go outside and see the sky again.

  
“I will be,” she promises, stretching up to kiss the corner of his mouth, something new for them and an act that stuns him long enough for Abby to get the helmet on her head.

She picks up the robot and they walk her to the door,

  
“I’ll see you soon.” She promises, looking at them both before slamming the door shut and making sure it was definitely closed.

  
They crowded to the small window in the door watched as she set the robot on the stairs, climbing them carefully and unlocking the hatch. She strains to push it open but manages to get it wide enough with one arm to push the robot through, pausing to catch her breath and she gives them both a quick wave before scrambling out of view.

They couldn’t hear it, the room was sealed to prevent radiation getting into the bunker, but they both flinched at the hatch closing.

  
“Should we go watch the video feed?” he suggests, but Abby shakes her head, “You go, and come get me when she’s about to come inside, I’ll wait here.”

“Ma’m,” he murmurs, nodding before leaving.

* * *

 

When he walks into the office, five heads look up from the screen in unison, matching expressions of dismay that make his heart sink,

  
“What happened?!” he demands, striding across the room and possibly shoving Roan and Kane out of the way to get to the screen, “Is she hurt?”

“She’s fine,” Raven assures him, “It’s all of us who are screwed.”

He squints at the screen, “What happened to the camera?” he asks, “Did it break?”

“It’s working perfectly,” Octavia sighs, “That’s the problem,”

“You’re seeing what it’s seeing,” she continues.

“What’s left of the tower that stood over this bunker,” Roan elaborates, “It must have collapsed on top of us.”

“Clarke is making her way through,” Kane informs him, “But slowly.”

“So, anyone who is five feet five and a hundred and twenty-six pounds or under might be able to crawl out in four years, but the rest of us are going to have trouble.”

  
The image on the screen changes and they turn back to it, watching raptly as the camera tilts, is set right and they blink as light finally breaks.

  
“She’s found a way outside,” Bellamy breathes, feeling hope coil into his stomach, “That’s good.”

  
They see Clarke’s orange jumpsuit as she crouches in front of the camera, they can’t hear her but the tension across her shoulders is clear as she slowly shifts rubble out of the way, trying to make a space big enough to fit the robot through.

The screen flickers and Bellamy blinks, squeezing his eyes shut to try and refocus them, except thirty seconds later, the screen is flickering again.

  
“What’s wrong with the image?” he asks, trying to keep his annoyance out of his tone as Raven presses some buttons,

“It’s not the image,” she answers, automatically defensive before her fingers freeze over the buttons.

“Oh my god.”

“ _What?_ ” Octavia demands, “What is happening?”

  
Kane is a burst of energy, flinging the door open and running from the room and Bellamy’s instincts tell him to follow, but he’s too busy watching the camera.

  
“The rubble,” Raven whispers, her voice frighteningly emotionless, “It’s shifting…”

  
They watch helplessly as Clarke raises an arm above her head to protect herself, as she looks behind her, the way she had come, and her expression is terrified before she surges forward. Away from the camera, away from the bunker, out into the world.

They get one last glimpse of her turning back before the ruins topple down, knocking the camera on its side and filling the screen with dust and broken concrete.

That’s when Bellamy moves, staggering at first but of surer footing when he gets to the entryway and finds Abby already putting a helmet onto Kane’s head.

  
“Stay here.” he orders them both, walking through the door before Bellamy can even reach for a suit.

  
Naturally, he ignores him, taking down the orange material and beginning to dress as Abby stands watch at the door.

He’s just getting his gloves in place when the door opens, and Kane slips back through.

He isn’t panicked but he’s close.

  
“I can’t get the hatch open,” he mumbles, tugging off his helmet, “It must be jammed down by the rubble which means…”

“Clarke can’t back get in,” Abby whispers, horrified.

“We can’t get _out_.” He finishes.

* * *

 

Kane allows Bellamy to put on a suit and join him at the hatch door, the two of them straining as they try to push it open without even managing to budge a millimeter.

Eventually, he tries to order him back into the bunker, and when he refuses, threatens to call the guard and drag him back in.

He calls him on his bluff and it’s another two hours, a low oxygen reading and a near-dislocation of his shoulder before he almost topples down the stairs, gasping for air as his vision swims, sweat pouring down his face.

He almost collapses in the prep room, unable to lift his arms to take off his helmet and gentle hands do it for him.

“It’s okay,” he calls out to Abby as his eyelids droop closed in exhaustion, “I’ll try again tomorrow, she has night blood, she can handle one night out there.”

* * *

 

He misses the meeting where Jaha is pulled up, announces that he can’t find them another way out of the bunker and sent away again, he misses the meeting where Monty’s given double-shifts in farm station and engineering, so Raven can devote her waking hours to finding a solution.

Instead, he’s in the entry room to the bunker, straining against the hatch for as long as his body will allow it before going back into the preparation room, pulling off his suit and collapsing onto the bench. Always, Abby is there to give him a shot of adrenaline beforehand and pain killers afterward.

He goes back to his bunk only because he needs what little comfort it can provide, and Clarke’s imprint is still on the terrible mattress. Her scent still on the pillow she always stole.

He can’t remember who tried to offer their condolence first, but he jammed his fist into their throat and wound up in a cell for ten hours before Abby broke him out for his shift at the hatch.

Clarke _was_ alive.

The world might have been destroyed by Praimfaya, but the princess was stubborn, she would figure something out.

And when the time came, she would figure out how to get them out of the bunker too.

He still had hope.

* * *

 

_Five years later..._

  
It’s Jackson who finds him, in the cafeteria, eating breakfast, and he looks up to see his face pale and his eyes filled with tears.

  
“I was in the rotunda,” he explains, “When…she’s back.”

  
Bellamy’s eyes shutter closed in grief.

Had it been six months already?

Still, his body moves of its own volition, leaving his food untouched as he strode up to A-Deck, through the rotunda, past Octavia’s office, to the prep room.

Abby is already there, tears streaming down her face as she opens her arms and he doesn’t stop moving until he’s embraced her frail form.

The first time they had heard the noise, it had filled them with hope.

Clarke was alive up there.

They had banged a pipe against the hatch, trying to use Morse code, searching for any sign that she heard them, but nothing.

Still, it had been six months and she was alive.

After a few hours, the banging noise stopped, and they guessed she must have left.

Six months later, she had returned.

And six months after that.

And six months after that.

As time went on, the noise became less a symbol of hope for Abby and Bellamy and more a cruel torture.

Clarke was alive, but she couldn’t reach them, and they couldn’t reach her. They had no way of contacting her and no way of getting out of the bunker.

At the five-year mark, they sat side by side on the stairs, flinching every time the noise reached their ears, tears streaming down their faces.

Bellamy knew that Clarke would keep coming back, for the rest of her life to let them know that she was alive and that she hadn’t forgotten them.

But he also knew that she didn’t have the means to get them out.

Still, for the rest of his life, every six months, he would sit in the entryway with Abby, and listen to her signalling them.

And when he died and went to Hell he could tell the Devil he’d already served his sentence.

Abby brushes his hair back from his face and manages a tight smile, “Come on.”

They don’t bother putting on the suits, the radiation has dropped to safe levels and even if it hadn’t, they wouldn’t need them anyway.

They settle on the top step and Bellamy tilts his head back, closing his eyes and focusing on the noise,

  
“Sounds different,” he murmurs, “More scattered.”

Abby hums in acknowledgment, “She must be trying to dig us out again.”

  
The sound is loud, reverberating and painful to their ears, but neither of them react right away, taking a moment before turning to each other in confusion, seeking confirmation that they had both heard it.

It comes again, a blast of some kind and their eyes widen.

Both of them shoot to their feet and start speaking at once,

  
“You stay,” Bellamy shouts, talking over her, “I’ll go get Octavia.”

He’s barely halfway to the rotunda before his sister meets him, looking up to the ceiling, slightly breathless,

“Bell…what the _hell_ is that?”

“It has to be Clarke,” he states, “She must have figured a way to get us out?”

  
The blast shakes the ceiling, and everyone flinches, curling their shoulders instinctively,

  
“Hey!” Raven calls from the bottom of the ramp, “Whatever the hell is going on, Clarke wouldn’t have had access to whatever the hell kind of explosive is being used.”

“Who else could it be?” Roan asks, “She’s the only night blood up there who knew where we were and how to get us out, besides, only skai-kru had that kind of technology.”

  
Bellamy doesn’t have time to listen to this debate, he heads back up the ramp, into the prep room and nearly collides with Abby as she barrels through the door,

  
“I can hear voices,” she gushes, “But…they’re male.”

  
No.

She must be mistaken.

He shifts her aside, going back to the hatch and gripping the bar, closing his eyes to listen.

  
_“…what do you think it was?”_

_“Temple apparently?”_

_“To who? Mad Max?”_

_“Do I look like I give a damn? Just fire the damn gun.”_

  
The blasting is getting louder, nearly deafening him and he loses his footing on the stairs, skinning his hand on the railing and biting back a curse.

He covers his ears and strides back into the prep room,

  
“You were right,” he calls, “There’s men up there. Not Clarke.”

“Who cares _who_ it is?” Raven snaps, “If they’re willing to get us out.”

Octavia shares a look with Roan who nods, “I’ll assemble the warriors, station them just outside the rotunda and tell everyone else to await your order to stand down. Anything happens to you, whoever’s out there will find themselves in the middle of a war.”

  
The two of them share a quick kiss before she follows her brother to the hatch.

The blasting noise had stopped and now they could hear the scrape of rubble against rubble, growing fainter as it was carted away.

  
“Hey!” Octavia shouted suddenly, surprising Bellamy, “Whoever is up there, you should know, if you’re not friendly, we have an army!"  
  


He turns a furious gaze filled with anger and betrayal on her, but she shakes her head, holding a finger to her lips when the voice return. 

  
 _“What she say?”_ one asks.

 _“Says they have an army.”_ Another answers.

 _“Yeah?”_ the first one responds, raising his voice and he must be standing close to the hatch.

_“Well we have a mean blonde princess bossing us around and we’d really like her to stop, so if I was you, I’d take cover!”_

  
They had no idea who they were, but Bellamy still grabs Octavia’s arm and drags her back into the prep room,

  
“Cover your ears.” He orders everyone as they crouch down.

  
The door between the entry and the prep room was built to protect from radiation and explosives.

So, they manage to avoid the hearing loss they would have suffered as the hatch is blown into the room, creating a massive hole in the bunker and causing rubble to tumble in to the floor.

Bellamy waits until the dust is cleared slightly before opening the door, covering his mouth with the sleeve of his arm as he made his way in.

One man lowers himself onto the stairs, looking around with his t-shirt pulled up to his nose and his other hand raised up,

  
“Don’t shoot!”

Bellamy holds up his free hand, “I’m unarmed.”

  
He didn’t feel the need to mention that by now, the prep room would be filled with armed guards.

The man lowers his t-shirt, coughs and splutters as the dust clears,   
  
  
“You Bellamy Blake?”

  
He manages a nod, his dry throat having nothing to do with the dust.

  
“Yeah, she said you’d be first through the door. Okay, if you promise to move really carefully, Clarke Griffin is…I said _carefully!_ ” the man finishes shouting as Bellamy hits the ruins of the temple floor at a run, hoists himself up and pauses only long enough to determine a path through the rubble.

  
Emerging into the sunlight for the first time in years is blinding and he ducks his head, squeezing his eyes shut until he thinks he can handle it and slowly opening them.

First thing he sees is the dirt and then the ruined buildings where Polis once stood. There are people milling about, all dressed in similar coloured clothes and some are watching him curiously, but they don’t look to be threatening so he ignores them for the moment.

He moves around carefully, scanning the area until he hears his name called.

He has three second to register that something is moving towards him before it collides with him, a solid weight against him, arms over his shoulders, his vision filled with blonde hair. His arms snap around her back automatically, gripping her to him.

  
“Clarke?” he murmurs, because this is too good to be true, he hasn’t done anything to deserve this.

“I’m sorry,” she exhales, close to his ear, “I’m sorry it took so long to get you out, I’m sorry I left…I…”

  
She tries to pull back, but he has no plans to let her go for the immediate or even distant future, so she has to lean back so she can see his face,

  
“There’s so much I have to tell you.”

He shakes his head, “Okay, but first things first, I’m never letting you out of my sight again, you got a problem with that, too bad.”

Her laughter is choked by her tears of joy and she pulls him against her for another hug, vice-like in its grip,  

  
“Clarke?” a voice calls and she looks over her shoulder,

“Oh, right,” she says, turning back to him with a smirk, “So, I dug out the rover and I have a kid now.”

 “God, I love you.” He says, exhaling the words in a breath and she laughs again before they hear her mother shouting her name joyfully as she ran towards them. 

 


End file.
